


Rumour Had It

by TeaGirrl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Magic, Maids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaGirrl/pseuds/TeaGirrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpelstiltskin has gotten himself a new girl, but the ghost of Belle still haunts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumour Had It

Mallory. That was her name. The name of the new girl he had acquired through scheming and deals with peasants that fell through.

She was not the daughter of a wealthy king, but a farmer’s daughter destined for poverty and scrounging for meals. So he hadn’t felt the slightest bit of remorse when he had named his price in exchange for helping her idiot of a father pay off his gambling debts. His price had been her.

It had been a tearful parting, but the girl had eventually accepted her fate, and had let herself be led out of her childhood home, her few precious belongings in hand.

He hadn’t bothered locking her up in the dungeon upon her arrival. The nauseating sense of déjà vu was already overwhelming. So he had sent her to her room and not said another word to her until the next day, when he had explained her chores. She had nodded her understanding, and within a week had established a routine that allowed them to see as little of each other as possible.

He didn’t long for Mallory’s company when she was absent, and he didn’t cherish her smiles. She was just an ordinary girl, his maid. She would never be anything like the woman whose void she was poorly filling. No one could compare to his love.

One morning Mallory was busy in the kitchen fixing his breakfast as he sat at the head of the long dining room table, lost in daydreams and what could have been. It was then he heard her voice, the voice that would forever haunt his dreams.

“You look sad, Rumpelstiltskin,” she said. He turned to see her semi-transparent form sitting on the table by his side, her legs dangling off the edge. Her auburn curls cascaded down her back and her eyes had lost their azure colour, replaced by a lifeless grey hue.

His eyes widened at the sight of his lost love, and he stuttered for several moments before he was able to speak her name.

“Belle?”

She chuckled at his astonishment, her laugh ringing through the room. “Have you forgotten me already?” she teased.

He could never forget her, not even if he tried. His memories of her would remain clear and painful in his mind for the rest of his existence.

“Who are you talking to?” asked Mallory, who was walking towards him with a tray in her hand. She placed his breakfast in front of him, her eyes never leaving the ground. Without looking up she asked shyly: “Who’s Belle?”

Belle glanced at her and laughed loudly at Rum’s angry expression.

His eyes darkened. “It is none of your concern! Leave me!” he growled. Mallory whimpered at her Master’s anger and quickly scurried from the room.

“So that’s my replacement?” Belle said, her eyes following Mallory’s retreating figure. “Rumour had it that you had gotten a new girl, but I had to come and see for myself. She’s a little young,” she commented, her smile never leaving her face.

“How are you here?” he asked, dumbfounded at seeing his love here in front of him.

“After my untimely death I couldn’t help but linger, wanting to see you. And news of your new maid made me curious,” she said, jumping down off the table. Her feet didn’t make any sound as they landed on the floor.

She walked soundlessly over to his spinning wheel, stroking the wheel without even stirring the air around her.

“So it really happened then?” he asked, his voice thick with sorrow. He remembered how the Queen had sauntered into his castle and announced that his love was gone. “You really… died?” His voice caught, his sadness still present even after all this time. He knew he would never truly heal. True Love wasn’t something one came across very often.

She laughed. “Of course I died, Rum! Look at me!” She twirled the skirt of her transparent dress, and he watched how the fabric seemed to be weightless, floating in mid-air and taking a while to settle.

“Want to see a trick?” she asked eagerly. She took his silence as a ‘yes’, and suddenly she faded to nothing, her presence vanishing from the room completely.

His eyes searched the room frantically, panic striking him, fearing that he had lost her a second time. He got up from his chair, searching the air for any sign of her.

“I’m here, Rum,” she said cheerfully.

He spun on his heel to see her standing with her hands behind her back, beaming at him. “Tada!” she exclaimed, bowing gracefully, like a magician would after a magic trick.

He didn’t say anything. He merely stared at her, confused as to why she was so happy, so childlike.

“Why so glum, Rum?” she asked, pouting her lips in a childish manor. “Are you not happy to see me?” She reached out to touch him, to gently cup his cheek. He leaned into her hand, but pulled away when her ghost-touch brought about a searing pain on his skin, followed by an uncomfortable numbness. Her brows furrowed at his pulling away, and her hand lingered in the air before falling to her side.

“You’re not real,” he murmured. “You cannot be real…” He was sure he was dreaming, and that his Belle was at peace, somewhere far away from The Dark Castle. But the lingering numbness on his cheek suggested otherwise. 

“Keep telling yourself that, dearie,” she said, mimicking his lilt. She even mimicked his giggle, before slowly fading, her echoing laughter the only evidence she had ever been there in the first place.

 

Mallory was going through his china, sorting and rearranging, dusting and polishing, while Rum sat at his spinning wheel, ignoring her presence.

Belle appeared next to Mallory and watched as she carefully stacked his cups and saucers in the dining room cupboard.

“She’s quite pretty,” Belle commented, studying Mallory’s face, while Mallory remained completely oblivious.

Rum glanced up at her words. Mallory was an ordinary girl with fine blonde hair and freckles. She was slender and petite, nothing like the ghost of the woman he had, and still, loved.

“Don’t you think so, Rumpel?” she asked, sauntering over to him.

He remained silent, eyeing Belle as she walked over to stand beside him, much like she had the night he had sent her away, the night he had rejected her.

“Do you think she’ll be able to love you like I did?” she asked casually, still watching Mallory work.

Rum froze at her words. He had never heard her say that she loved him, and hearing it now, when he knew it was too late, was heart breaking. He looked up at Mallory, watching her along with the ghost of his lover. She glanced at him and quickly averted her gaze, blushing and fumbling with the china she was polishing. He could never love Mallory. There was no way she could measure up, and there was no way she could soothe the void in his heart.

“Don’t say things like that,” he said under his breath, clinging to what remained of his composure.

Mallory shot him a glance, wondering why he was talking to himself. All it took was this moment of disregard for her fingers to fumble and drop the china she had been polishing.

It fell to the hardwood floor, shattering to a handful of irreparable pieces. The sound seemed deafening in the suffocating silence, and both Belle and Rumpel looked at what remained of their keepsake.

Mallory fell to her knees, scrambling to clean up the porcelain mess on the floor, uttering countless apologies. Rum shot up from where he sat and quickly strode over to her crouching figure. He grabbed her arm and hauled her up, holding her arm in a vice grip.

“Do you realize what you have done?” he raged, violently shaking her arm. She cried out at his anger, tears in her eyes as she begged for forgiveness, swearing that it was an accident.

He silenced her pleas of innocence by striking her across the face, his nails leaving red gashes on her cheek. She gasped and clutched her cheek, before he pushed her away and ordered her to leave. She ran from the room, desperately trying to strangle her sobs. Rum sank to his knees in front of the many pieces of white and blue porcelain, picking them up one by one.

“Don’t you think that was a bit harsh?” Belle asked, standing above him with her arms folded across her chest.

“No,” he said curtly, his eyes fixed on the pieces in front of him.

“Rum, she’s just a child-“

“She broke our cup!” he shouted, holding out the broken pieces for her to see. Her grey eyes watched him, completely emotionless and dead.

“Our cup… How very sentimental of you,” she said, dropping to her knees beside him. “You can fix it.”

He just shook his head. He couldn’t fix it. It was too late. He had broken them, and no amount of magic or True Love could make things right. His cowardice had cost Belle her life, and both of their happiness.

“I ruined everything. I ruined us, Belle,” he said, trying to swallow his tears. “I lost you.”

She sighed. “I gave you a chance, Rumpelstiltskin,” she chided, “and you chose to let me leave.”

“I regretted it as soon as you walked out of that dungeon,” he whispered, searching her dead eyes for any signs of the woman she used to be, the one that had captivated his heart and offered him a life free from darkness.

“I know, love. I know,” she said softly, her semi-transparent body slowly fading, vanishing to nothing but a soft breeze against his skin.

He remained on the floor, clutching pieces of the symbol of their love, staining the floor with golden tears. He thought he could feel the ghost of a hand rest on his shoulder, the only comfort in his worthless and anguished existence.


End file.
